Bloody Regrets
by EmmalynnMarie21
Summary: After the deaths of Johnny and Dallas, Ponyboy was never the same. He fled Tulsa and found his way to Dally's old gang in New York. But after a bloody rumble that ends in another murder, Ponyboy finds himself returning home to finally face his past.
1. Chapter 1: City Lights

**My first fanfic for the Outsiders, but you may know me from the Twilight archive! Please read and review!**

**Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns the outsiders and all its glory!**

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The rumble was later tonight and my nerves were already hopping into high gear four hours before we would get to the alley. Caged stayed at my side as we roamed the streets. He was out of it—drunk or high, I did not know. A few of the guys were on the other side of the nearly vacant road, scouting for possible victims. I caught Drew's eye and he nodded to a middle aged man emerging from a pawn shop down the street.

Drag made his way over to our side—splitting the gang evenly for a three and three attack from either side. The guy glanced up at us apprehensively as he slid on a knock-off Rolex watch that he had just pawned from the shop. I rolled my eyes—this guy was cheap.

We closed in, and I leaned over to Caged. "Get the Rolex and we can sell it to some of the guys in the alley on 10th street. I'll get the bag and the others can whip him."

"Okay, Pony." The young black-haired boy at my side sighed, his lips tight with something that almost resembled disapproval. _Almost._

The guy picked up his pace, attempting to avoid us as we entered a five foot radius to him. Drew was faster, though. He caught the guy around the neck and knocked him to the ground. Caged got the watch and I swiped the bag—easy. Drew and the others stripped him of his tie, knock-off dress shoes, and his socks. I didn't get the point of the last one, but I didn't ask.

He was out cold by the time we left him bleeding in the street—again, the sense that Dally would have been proud of me pummeled my mind.

I had ended up in New York; the same place Dallas grew up and mugged innocent bystanders nearly his entire life. A few weeks after I got here, I looked up his dad. He lived in a rough part of town filled with stray cats and alley rats. The smell was awful. I didn't even bother knocking on the door. I barged in, finding Fallon Winston getting a new beer from his molding fridge. It only took a few right hooks before I had him pinned.

"_You're the piece of crap that tossed Dallas out on the streets after knocking him around his entire childhood; I'm here to make you pay for it."_ I growled in his ear, before knocking him out cold. An hour later, I left Fallon nearly dead on the floor of his own home.

We lounged in the alleyway for the next few hours, lighting up and playing poker. I won a few hands, before pulling out with my newly earned twenty bucks and the Rolex. Tipping back my buddy Mr. Daniels, I downed the bottle just before the Devils started to arrive. The Devils was our rival gang—they were New York's version of Socs. We all stood from the ground, pocketing our money and cards from the game. Drew and I lead the gang, meeting the Devils' leaders in the middle.

"Weapons and skin." J. glowered, his black eyes meeting mine. J. was a twenty-something thug that lived in a penthouse on Broadway Avenue. Well, maybe thug isn't the right word…more like _mafia boss._ He had collected a lot of money over the years; I'm not gonna lie.

I nodded, breaking my bottle on a crate nearby, before following Drew back to the guys. One of our boys, Hal, stepped out into a small circle of light in the center of the two gangs. I flashed back to the rumble two years ago and saw Darry in the middle instead of Hal. Blinking back the scene and swallowing tightly, I saw J. move forward.

J. swung first and his fist connected with Hal's jaw. It was Darry and Paul all over again.

One the Devils lunged for me, catching me around the neck and throwing both of us to the ground. Remembering the acrobatics that Darry taught me when I was younger, I did a no-hands back-flip and landed on my feet in front of the guy. He launched forward, his arms encircling my knees and bringing me down on his shoulder. I pummeled the back of his head with my broken bottle, and his blood stained my calloused hands.

I got lost in the rumble after that, fighting and fighting—sometimes two at time like Darry and Dallas did.

What finally snagged my attention, though, was when I heard someone scream. I whipped around, my eyes landing on Caged as his opponent sunk a switchblade in his chest.

"No!" I swore, catching him before he hit the ground. Scarlet blood pooled on his chest, running down and staining my worn clothes. "Caged, no, you can't do this to me, man." I choked, gripping his shoulders tightly.

Caged didn't choke out any last words like you read about and hear in movies—he just died, just like Johnny just died, and just like Dally just died. I let out something between a sob and a strangled scream.

Everything was silent.

Until J. exploded at his boy.

"YOU BLASTED IDIOT!" He roared, snatching the guy away and dragging him down the alley. "YOU DON'T KILL IN A RUMBLE! DO YOU WANT THE FUZZ COMING AFTER US!?"

Silent sobs wracked my chest as l collapsed over his body.

"Ponyboy," Drew murmured, his hand on my shoulder as tried to pull me away. I stood, backing away slowly while the guys watched me warily.

"I have to get out of here." I gasped, my eyes darting around erratically.

"Hey, calm down, Pone. Don't run—," Drew's voice faded as I took off down the alleyway. He attempted to follow, but my track years had given me the speed I needed in order to outrun anyone and everyone.

I stopped only at the bus station and used part of my twenty bucks to buy a ticket. When I got on, I immediately made my to the back and settled there, pressing my face against the cool glass of the window. People kept looking back at me warily, their eyes going wide when they saw the blood on me. There was a gash on the side of my head that wouldn't stop stinging, and sticking, crimson blood was running down my face.

It didn't matter though.

After two years of roaming the streets of New York, I was finally going home.

XXX

"Darry!" Soda called from the kitchen, making me jump and nearly cut myself shaving.

"Yeah?" I hollered, wiping the shaving cream from my face and making my way to the kitchen.

"Steve just called," he mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate cake, "there's a thug with a broken bottle and a switchblade down by Shepherd's and they want us to come down there and see what he wants. Curly nearly overdosed on crack last night, so they're stuck at the hospital and can't get to the thug themselves."

I sighed. "Yeah, let's go." I almost called for Ponyboy, but stopped short, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I know, I almost called him too." Soda sighed, shaking his head and heading out the door. Two-Bit and Steve met us at the corner and we set off from there. Tim's place was a ten minute walk from our place, so we settled for talking the entire way there.

"I miss my switchblade…" Two-Bit muttered, scowling at the ground.

Steve snorted. "You didn't even use it."

"But it was my baby!" He groaned, sigh dramatically.

"Two-Bit, you might actually have a kid out there from all your many blondes—I wouldn't joke if I were you." Soda grinned, punching Two-Bit's shoulder.

"Good point, I'd bet—," I began, but was cut off by a harsh and bitter laugh in front of us. I looked to the sidewalk we were nearing, only to see the lout we were looking for staring right at us.

"Oh, I so knew Tim would be calling you guys down here." The boy chuckled sardonically as he stood from his lounging position against the brick wall. "Looking for this?" He sneered, his lips the only thing visible under his black hood as he tossed a black object into the air.

Two-Bit caught his switchblade, staring at it with wide eyes. "You stole it!?" He roared, throwing his fist forward. It connected with the kid's right eye, knocking him back into wall.

"What happened to your sense of humor, Two-Bit?" He drawled, before Steve landed a right hook on the kid's jaw.

"You better learn to shut your mouth, kid." Steve warned, his eyes flaring with rage.

"Thanks for the welcome home beating—I knew it'd happen eventually, but I thought it'd be Darry laying it on. Oh well, I've been wrong before."

He pulled back his hood, pushing himself off the ground.

And I looked in the eyes of Ponyboy Curtis for the first time in two long years.

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**Hit or miss?**

**Should I continue?**

**Please review!**

**Always,  
Full Moon Writing**


	2. Chapter 2: Return of the Strayed

**Here's the update you've all been waitin' for! **

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He wipes the blood off his cheek, grinning faintly. Ponyboy's grown—he's almost as tall as me and his build is astonishing, albeit he's too skinny to be healthy. His once forest green eyes are darker, almost ice like he used to describe mine as. Scars and bruises decorate his neck and face like badges of honor. A long, deep gash runs along the side of his head, from his scalp to his chin. His lips are cracking and tinged blue from the cold and his clothes are stained with nearly dried blood.

"Ponyboy," Soda gasps, stumbling forward.

"What, you wanna deck me too? Go ahead. I've had worse." He's bitter now—his tone is harsh.

"Hey," I break in, attempting to calm everyone. "Let's get ya back to the house and clean ya up—we can talk later." Ponyboy looks like he's about to argue, but nods nonetheless. I put my arm around his shoulders, surprised that he doesn't protest, and lead him down the street.

I look over when his eyes close unexpectedly. "I can't believe he's dead." He mutters, his shoulders quivering.

"Who's dead?" I question anxiously, glancing at my troubled brother.

He looks up at me. "An old friend."

We remain silent for the rest of the walk home, while the others talk in hushed whispers behind us. Ponyboy looks shaken, almost fearful, but doesn't hesitate to walk right in the door of our house. Sitting him on the couch, I study the gash on his head.

"I'll be right back." I murmur, hurrying to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit.

XXX

"Hey, Ponyboy." I grinned, flopping on the couch at his side.

"Hi, Soda." He rolled his thawing eyes, giving me a lopsided grin.

"Nice cut—makes you look tuff."

"Thanks, I guess." He settled back on the couch, seeming perfectly at ease, though his muscles were tenses and high strung.

Darry returned then, with the first aid kit in hand. He sat on the armchair in front of us, dabbing carefully at the side of our brother's head and then patching it up with a white bandage.

He sat back, his blue eyes searching our brother's. "Do ya wanna talk?"

Ponyboy sighed, shifting uncomfortably.

"Where did you go?" Steve emerged from the kitchen sitting on the floor beside Two-Bit and Darry.

"New York—hooked up with some of Dally's old gang." Pony muttered, averting his eyes. I blanched, completely taken off guard. Darry looked like he was about to pass out, Steve was ticked, and Two-Bit was trying to act impassive.

"Why'd ya go, Pony?" I couldn't help it, my voice cracked, "We were here for ya, kid! You just took off!"

I could have sworn there were tears in his eyes. "I couldn't take it, Soda! I kept seeing Johnny and Dally…and it just got to me! I thought I was goin' crazy!" Darry looked like he'd been punched, and I'm pretty sure I looked the same way. Tears leaked from Ponyboy's eyes. "I couldn't take it anymore…" I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him down against my chest.

He was tensed—insensate to any emotion. Steve and Two-Bit looked away, while Darry just sat there, his face blank.

"We didn't know where you were—hell, I thought you were dead!"

He looked away, shame burning on the surface of his eyes. "I wished I was sometimes."

"Oh, Pony, don't…don't talk like that, buddy." Two-Bit shook his head, disbelieving as he gaped up at the boy who used to love life, who used to read, and who used to smile and laugh.

It was silent for a moment—we were all still processing the past half hour.

"Why don'tcha head off to bed and we can finish this is in the morning?" Darry suggested quietly. Pony nodded, biting his lip anxiously, before heading off too our room.

The door shut, and Steve nearly exploded.

"DALLY'S OLD GANG!?" His face was red.

"Okay, let's take this outside before Stevie blows." Two-Bit grinned, shoving Steve toward the back door and into the yard. I rolled my eyes, following them out.

Pulling out a weed, I leaned back against the railing. "I know, I'm gonna unload on'im in the mornin', but for now, shut your yap before he hears ya and takes off again."

"Why do ya care 'bout the kid, anyway? He was just a pain to you before he hightailed it to New York." Two-Bit cut in, taking a swing from his beer.

Steve turned away, his expression raging. "The kid's gonna turn out to be another Dally, and I'm not itchin' to watch him go down the same way." I choked with surprise, nearly spittin' out my cancer stick in the process.

"He ain't gonna be Dallas Winston—I won't let'im." Darry crossed his arms, leaning back against the deck.

Steve whipped around. "Did ya even look at him!? Those eyes—those are Dally's eyes! They're cold and bitter and angry and dead! What did ya think when we found the kid covered in all that blood!? It's not all his, I can tell ya'll that already!"

Darry glowered, stepping up to Steve so they were toe-to-toe. "_I won't let him become Dallas."_

XXX

I turned away from the window—I'd heard enough of the fight. Creeping out the front door, I lit up a weed and leaned forward against the railing. Staring up at the stars, I realized, for the first time, that I really hadn't seen the night sky in two years because of the city lights. They were bright—brighter than the alleys when we lit'em up with our heaters in New York.

"Hey, kid, didn't know you were back from the city." Tim was staggering by. He wasn't completely drunk, but he wasn't completely sober either.

"Shots and Drag told me to tell ya hi for'em."

Tim threw his head back, letting out a drunken laugh. "So you hooked up with Dally's guys—smart move."

I nodded. "Some of the best hoods I ever met." I laughed to myself then—that statement sounded wrong.

He disappeared around the corner of the empty road, still laughing at some private joke that I didn't really want to know about. Laying my head down against the splintered wood of the railing, I sighed, letting out a perfect ring of smoke.

"You still a weed fiend?" Soda chuckled, stepping out of the house.

I shrugged, turning to face him. "A habit I can't kick." He nodded silently, taking a drag in his own stick.

"Yeah, I'm on a three pack a day run—been like that since ya…left. Darry, too—he took up two packs a day. What 'bout you?"

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "Five packs on an off day and six on a good one."

"You're gonna die of lung cancer before you're thirty." Soda's lips turned down in a scowl of disapproval.

I shrugged. "Nerves got to me when I was in the city—there were some tuff guys up there and you didn't want to be on their bad sides. It was kinda like how you don't wanna tick off Tim Sheppard, but with heaters and five times more people trying to screw ya over."

Soda laughed once—it was almost bitter. "Yeah, well, that's why Dally was how he was."

"Well, I knew that." I took a long drag on my cig, letting the sarcasm of my comment hang in the tense air.

My brother came to my side, leaning forward against the railing. "What happened over there, Pone? You're so different now…almost like, I don't know, almost like you're turning into another Dallas."

His pleading eyes met my unforgiving gaze. "And what's wrong with what Dallas was? Ya stay tough, ya don't get hurt."

"Pony, no." Soda shook his head. "You don't really believe that."

"You don't know what I believe—you're not me—so I suggest you take a step back." I warned him with eerie calm radiating from my ill-fated threat.

He came closer, his chest nearly pressed to mine. "Make me."

My fist drew back, flying forward and striking his nose with staggering force.

XXX

"You son of a—,"Ponyboy's holler came from the front porch, resonating into the room. I sprung up from the chair, sprinting to the entrance and throwing it open just in time to see Soda throwing our brother to the sodden ground. Pony retaliated with a sharp blow to his jaw, knocking him backwards, and doing a no-hand back flip onto his feet.

Soda launched himself forward, ready to continue the rumble, when Steve tackled him to the ground and Two-Bit hauled Ponyboy back by the arms.

"Darry! The kid's stronger than he used to be!" Two-Bit called urgently, fighting my brother's attempt at escape. I hurried to his side, wrapping my arms tightly around Pony and taking him from our friend's arms.

"Hey! Stop it!" I shouted in his hear, relieved when his struggle finally ceased.

"You little son of a—," Ponyboy cursed, spitting at Soda's feet. "You know _nothing._"

I tightened my restraint on him. "_Stop it, now._"

All was silent. Ponyboy's breathing was ragged with anger—his chest heaving with each frayed breath.

"What happened to you?" Soda murmured, his eyes pleading as he sank to his knees.

Pony looked up from the ground and his arctic gaze me our brother's. _"Life_ happened_."_

"Hey, hey! Cool it! Both of you!" I demanded, grinding my teeth together. "We aren't waiting for morning, now, I guess. We're gonna talk—actually, Ponyboy, you're gonna talk, so start spittin' out an explanation. What happened over there?"

"That's my business."

"When my little brother shows up covered in blood, with a stolen switchblade, a bad attitude, after being missing for two years it becomes _my_ business!" I released my hold on him and shoved him back a little so I could look at him.

He shrugged. "There was a rumble—not my blood."

"That's exactly my point! It's _not_ your blood! You're gonna get yourself hauled into the cooler!"

"Already been there—Dally was right, the fuzz get to knowin' ya after awhile." He grinned impishly.

Two-Bit's lips twitched. "What'd ya get hauled in for?"

Pony's smirk was full-blown. "A few muggings, fights, theft—that kind of stuff."

"That's my boy!" Two-Bit laughed, before shutting up when he caught sight of my glare. "So how'd ya manage to jack my switchblade, kid?"

My brother grinned. "That's for me to know, and you to wonder."

XXX

Once everything had calmed (well, at least cooled to where the Curtises weren't about to slug each other every two seconds), we headed back inside.

Ponyboy, Darry, and Soda kept glaring at each other, so Two-Bit and I were playing babysitters and separating them. Two-Bit sat between Darry and Pony on the couch, while Soda and I lounged on the floor of the cluttered living room.

"So…" Pony broke the silence first. "Why didn't Tim send one of his guys down to whip me?"

"Brumley guys are closin' in on his turf; his boys are busy defendin' their turf—it's been a full out territory war for the past four months and the Socs are takin' advantage of it. Every Greaser is so distracted by the turf wars that them Socs are startin' to gang up on us in broad daylight—they got nothin' to worry about 'cause the fuzz are distracted breakin' up Greaser fights." Soda explained, averting his eyes from his brother's.

Ponyboy nodded. "It's like that up in New York every day. The Devils—the city's version of Socs—has been movin' in our territory for the past two years, since they already took out the Rollers."

"It's rough all over." I nodded. "Like that one chick—what was her name?—oh yeah, that Socy broad, uh, Cherry; she got whacked just a week ago by a drunk Brumley boy with a switchblade. It was tuff—the cops found her body in the park exactly where they found Bob's body—ironic, huh?"

The kid's green eyes went wide. "Cherry's dead?"

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**Alright, hit or miss?**

**I realize it's extremely out of character for Ponyboy to slug Soda, but really, can you see how Pony's changed since New York? He's basically becoming another Dally, so hitting Soda wasn't really too far from realistic with Ponyboy's new attitude.**

**Review please!**

**-_full moon writing_**


	3. Chapter 3: Pivot Point

**Alright, chickies, the update has come!**

**Disclaimer: The Outsiders is not mine- sorry to disappoint.**

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XXXXX

I wandered the dismal streets, taking occasional drags on my cigarette as I went. It was ironic that my feet led me on the path to the park—the place where everything had been set in motion.

_XX_

"_Pony, come here, baby!" Mom called from her place on the fountain with dad._

_I rolled my eyes. "I'm not a kid, ma; you don't need to call me baby anymore."_

"_I know," she grinned, "but you'll always be my baby."_

_Dad nodded. "Don't try to avoid the name, Ponyboy—I'm still sugarplum to your mom." He kissed her cheek._

_I cringed. "Agh, don't do that in front of my innocent eyes!"_

_The laughed together._

"_Hey, I wanna join the party!" Soda called, running into the park with Darry at his side._

_Mom smiled softly. "There are my other boys." Darry and Soda pecked her on the cheek, before ruffling my greased hair._

"_Ah, come on!" I groaned, boosting the comb out of Soda's back pocket and running it through my hair in an attempt to fix it. Soda punched my shoulder playfully—distracting me so Darry could tackle me to the dirt. They had me pinned, before tickling me to a point where I though my sides would bust open from laughter._

"_Holler uncle!" Soda smirked. I shook my head defiantly, locking my jaw against my building hilarity. They kicked up the torture and it wasn't long before I gave in._

"_Alright, alright! Uncle!" I shouted, shaking my head as my brothers let me off the ground. Darry reached down, slipping his arm under my elbow and hauling me from the dirt._

"_You kids are gonna wear down your mother and me before we can retire." Dad grinned, tousling our hair._

_Darry sat down at his side while Soda and I settled ourselves at mom's feet. "You know," our brother began, "you two should go on a date sometime. I'll stay with Soda and Pony for the night and you guys can go out to dinner."_

_Mom and Dad looked at each other, bright smiles on their faces. "Alright," Mom nodded, "we'll go tonight. Thank you, Darry."_

_Little did we know that they wouldn't be coming home that night…or ever again. Yeah, thanks Darry…_

_XX_

This park was the pivoting point of my entire life now—it was where the plan for my parents was set in motion, where the Socs attacked Johnny and me, where Bob was murdered, and where Cherry was killed. You would think I couldn't bear to return to this place—I didn't think I could either—but something was pulling me there.

I wandered around the outskirts, before making my over to the fountain. It was running softly—the pipes would be frozen in a few weeks with the encroaching winter season. I sat in the exact spot where I last saw my mom resting and felt tears pool in my eyes. Quickly, I wiped them away. I don't cry anymore—it's not what hoods do.

Gazing down at the sidewalk, I bit my lip at the sight of the long-since dried blood stains on the concrete. The once scarlet liquid had become black with age, but there were newer marks beside where Bob's blood was spilled. Cherry's blood hadn't gone completely black yet, and I hoped it never did. She didn't deserve to be forgotten after she worked so hard trying to bring peace between the Greasers and the Socs.

Blinking away the blooming tears in my eyes, I looked away from the haunting memories and up to the full moon. The light of the moon outshined the flickering stars that surrounded it.

I missed Caged. I missed Dally. I missed Johnny. I missed Cherry. I missed mom. I missed dad.

Rising from the fountain, I trudged from the dimly lit park and onto the vacant streets of Tulsa. The light of the moon seemed to follow me on my path to the cemetery, lighting my way in the darkness. I ended up hopping the wrought iron gates of the graveyard—muttering angrily that they had locked up the yard for once. I absently wondered why—after all, they never had locked it before.

Slipping through the eerie shadows of the night, I made my way to Dally's burial site. It was a single white cross—completely out of place over Dallas' grave. Kneeling before the cross, I allowed a lone tear to glide down my cheek and fall to the grass over Dally.

"You'd call me a wuss for crying now, Dal. I know you would. Shots and Drag and Drew and all the other guys couldn't believe it when I told them you were dead—and you're dad, well, he didn't give a crap either way. I knocked him around for ya, Dally. That man ain't gonna hurt you again. I miss ya, man. That may seem crazy, but, Dal, I really looked up to ya for awhile. I guess that's what led me to New York—and to all your insane guys up there. Take care, Dallas—I wish you was still here."

Johnny's grave was right beside Dally's—they were at each other's side just like in life. I didn't have to say anything as I settled in front of his simple white cross. Johnny knew what'd I say—he always knew me. Bowing my head, I felt the inevitable tears trickling down my cheeks and dripping from my face. I didn't wipe them away this time. Pulling my bottle of Jack Daniel's outta my back pocket, I took a few heavy swigs of it. It wasn't long until every drop of liquor was drained from it.

It seemed like hours had passed when I reached Cherry's grave. The headstone was a massive statue of an angel and had her beautiful face decorating the bottom where the inscription was carved.

"I'm sorry." I murmured, gazing at the grave with reverence.

My mom and dad's graves had simple stone headstones and were right beside each other. The last roses that someone had left over them had wilted and were blowing away pedal by pedal. I grimaced, settling between their headstones.

"Glory, I miss you guys…" I muttered softly, laying my head on the soft grass between them. It was like when I was little and I would crawl between them in their bed when there was a thunderstorm—when I was scared.

XXX

"You had to tell him?!" Darry shouted, towering over Steve as he cringed back against the wall.

"Darry, the kid had right to know." Steve spoke surprisingly softly. "We couldn't keep it from him forever."

"He just ran out! We may never see him again thanks to you!" My brother's eyes narrowed.

Two-Bit stood up. "Well, we might as well start actually _looking _for the kid instead of fighting over it!" Everything was silent. Two-Bit Mathews never yells—_never._

"Let's go." I nodded, sprinting out of the house and into the night.

Darry followed with the Steve and Two-Bit at his heels. "Alright, Two-Bit and Steve, you guys check the park and Buck's—even Tim's. Soda and I'll check out everywhere else."

"You think he'd really go to Buck's or Tim's?" Steve asked, narrowing his eyes.

"He's got a half-empty bottle of Daniels in his back pocket—I saw it when we found him down at Shepard's. Yeah, he'd probably head over to Buck's if he wanted to." I commented, earning Darry's shocked, wide eyes on mine.

Our friends hurried away, disappearing into the shadows.

We took off in the opposite directing, heading over to the DX. Everything was silent as we walked.

"Hey, Darry?" I broke the silence.

"Yeah?"

My eyes met his. "We can't lose him again."

"Trust me," he laughed bitterly, "I know."

The DX and the lot were both vacant and my nerves were hoppin' all over the place by the end of the hour. Steve and Two-Bit had caught up with us, sayin' they couldn't find'im, but they'd keep lookin'. We split up again, this time Steve and Two-Bit were gonna check out Brumley territory—we were still on a good terms with their side of the turf war.

"Do you think…?"Darry trailed off quietly, coming to a halt in front of the gates to the graveyard. "Would he?"

I shrugged. "Let's check it out."

The gate was locked—what the heck?—so we hopped the far end of the fence and made our way onto the paved pathway.

"Whose grave?" I murmured, turning to Darry.

He thought for a moment. "Johnny's?" I nodded, picking up the pace. The row of simple white crosses was dim in the moonlight, but it wasn't hard to pick out Johnny's and Dally's.

Ponyboy wasn't there.

"Well, hell!" I muttered, kneading my forehead with my knuckles angrily.

Darry nudged me with his elbow. "What about mom and dad?" I looked up into his dark eyes, surprised at the concern written out there. I nodded, biting my bottom lip, and taking off toward the opposite side of the cemetery. Darry was hot on my heels as we sprinted up the hill and over the long fields of graves. We slowed as we entered the west lawn and turned to where our parents were buried.

There he was.

Curled up between their headstones, Ponyboy was out cold. I smiled grimly, tugging Darry along behind me toward our little brother. His eyes were rimmed with a barely perceptible red, and his lips were tinged blue from the cold of the October air. There were blood stains on his wore clothes, but I quickly reminded myself that they had been there we found him—they weren't new. Darry bent down, slipping his arms beneath Pony and lifting him gently from the ground.

"Ain't he a little big to be carried?" I grinned.

Darry's voice was low. "He's almost lighter than after Windrixville."

I grimaced; following my brother to the closest gate and helping him lift Pony over the wrought iron to the other side. We trudged on through the darkness, immersing ourselves within the silence.

"He's so small." Darry murmured as Ponyboy unconsciously curled closer to our brother's chest.

I shook my head. "I doubt they had bacon an' eggs up in the alleys, Dar." He nodded mutely, gazing down at our slumbering brother. "I've missed him."

"Me too, Soda, me too." Slipping through the shadows, we emerged onto the road that led back to our house. The lights shining through our windows in the distance signaled that Two-Bit and Steve were home, waiting for us.

Hurrying up the front steps ahead of Darry, I threw open the door for him. Our friends jumped up from their chairs, their eyes wide as my brother carried Pony through the open doorway.

"Glory, where was he? Is he okay?" Steve stepped forward, his eyes raking over my brother, until he caught sight of Darry's glower.

"Hey, this can wait 'till mornin', boys." I stepped between them, lightly shoving my brother in the direction of mine and Pony's bedroom. Following them down the hall, I watched quietly as Darry lowered our little brother to the bed and slipped an empty bottle outta the back pocket of Ponyboy's jeans.

"Ah, hell, he drank it all." Two-Bit was at my side with a wide smirk across his face. "I was gonna ask if he'd share." I choked on a laugh and it came out as a snort. Darry shook his head, flipping the bottle in his hands, before pushing us into the living room and closing the door softly.

"Two-Bit, you dip-wad, stop that!" Darry growled when our friend tried to swipe the bottle of Daniels out his hands. I grinned, throwing my head back with laughter while Two-Bit sulked his way to the floor, where he stretched out and covered himself with a blanket from the closet. Steve was already sprawled out on the couch—out cold and snoring loudly.

"Someone turn off the chainsaw!" Two-Bit smirked, chuckling to himself while I rolled my eyes. Darry tossed the empty bottle of whiskey into the garbage, before saying goodnight and closing the door to his bedroom behind him.

I soon followed and made my way into mine and Pony's room. Ponyboy was curled up on the right side of the bed already and sleeping like a log. At least, that's how dad used to describe it.

Pulling off my shirt and tugging on a loose pair of sweats, I flopped down onto the bed beside him.

"Goodnight, Ponyboy. Welcome home."

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**Haha, don't get your hopes up. Ponyboy's not gonna be an angel now. He's still very bitter and there is a lot more drama to come...**

**Review please!**

**_-full moon writing_**


	4. Chapter 4: Hammered Conscience

**Alright, I'm in a bad mood. I've gone from 13 reviews in the first chapter, down to only 3 for the previous chapter. So, until the reviews start picking up, I'm not updating. You guys have to understand that my motivation runs off of reviews and I'm sure most everyone elses does too. I'm not mad, and I'm not trying to be demanding, but my high for this story is about to burn out because of lack of support and I really don't wanna give up on this story. So, please, review?**

**Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.**

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XXXXX

My eyes fluttered open to meet the beams of the too bright sun. I groaned—my head was pounding. It must have been Jack Daniels—he always liked to screw with my head. My eyes darted around, taking in my surroundings. _I'm home?_

Sitting up slowly in order to avoid a massive head rush, I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It read _9:03 AM_, and I flopped back onto the bed; biting back a yelp at the flaring pain in my head.

"Mornin', sunshine!" Soda was standing in the doorway, a too wide smile spread across his face. I rolled my eyes, turning onto my stomach and pulling the pillow over my head—_I can't deal with this right now._

"How'd I get home last night?" I mumbled into mattress.

There was a slight pause. "Darry carried you home from the cemetery." I nodded in silent reply, stretching my back until it popped.

Soda was still behind me—I knew it without looking. "What d'ya want? I've got a killer hangover and intend to sleep it off today."

I could tell he was smirking. "Shouldn'tna had that Daniels."

"Hardy har har." I muttered, rolling my eyes again.

"Hey, come on, Pone. Darry made breakfast before he left and I don't gotta go into the DX 'till noon."

I heaved myself up from the bed, grumbling angrily to myself. "Alright, alright." My head was throbbing and my vision was blurry, but I'd known every inch of this house since I was little, so it wasn't too hard to stumble into the kitchen and collapse into a chair at the table. Soda slipped a plate of eggs and pancakes under my nose and laughed a little too loud when my eyes widened with savage hunger.

"When's the last time you ate?" He chuckled, settling across from me and digging into his breakfast.

I thought about it for a second. "Two days ago and it was scraps from the garbage—half a hot dog and an expired bag of chips."

Soda choked on his eggs. "That's nasty, and that's coming from _me_ of all people. How desperate were ya?"

I snorted. "Hadn't eaten in three days and was goin' on fours hours of sleep on the molding floor of a friend's house."

"That sucks, Pony—even you know that."

"Oh, trust me, I've been in worse. Like the cooler up in the city—the cells have rats and spiders and the food is all stale. After awhile, though—once you've been hauled in over twenty times—they upgrade ya to solitary confinement and those cells actually have sheets on the mattresses!" I laughed bitterly, forking my eggs and cramming them into my mouth as a distraction.

"Well, this place is better than a prison cell, so do ya figure on hangin' around for awhile?"

XXX

"I want that file on the thug murder wrap in the alley down on Broadway Avenue!" I hollered irritably, taking another swig from my fifth coffee of the morning. Officer Hill sauntered into my office—a cocky sneer on her tanned face—and slapped the file down on my desk.

"Yes, sir." She slurred, grinning impishly.

I laughed. "Stop screwin' around, Hill. I ain't got time for your attitude." She smiled softly—dropping the act—before leaving the room. I flipped open the file, thumbing through it impatiently, until I reached the page I was searching for.

The results were as clear as day—we found the fingerprint match on the clothes of Jesse "Caged" Mason that he was found in at the murder scene.

_Prime Suspect:_ Ponyboy Michael Curtis.

I knew him all too well.

XXX

"Shoot, kid, bug off!" I shoved Curly Shepard out the door and smirked as he took off down the street.

"Shepard gettin' handsy with the hubcaps again?" Soda was wiping his greasy hands on a towel as slipped into the shop from the garage.

I nodded. "That boy has less sense than your kid brother, Soda."

His lips tugged down at the corners. "I asked him if he was gonna stick around for awhile or go back."

My eyebrows furrowed and I turned away from the cash register I was messing around with. "What'd he say?"

"Said he couldn't go back to the city and then hightailed it into the shower—can't say I blame'im though. He smelled pretty ripe." Soda gave me a lopsided grin, leaning against the counter.

"He did." I nodded, rolling my eyes and slamming the cash register shut.

"But I think the kid's in some sorta trouble, man. I mean, he was covered with blood and had been drinkin' himself to the gutter when we found'im down at Tim's. Do ya think he got involved in some big drug wrap up in the city?" Soda started chewing on his bottom lip, before lighting up a weed even though our boss had been hollerin' at us since day one about smokin' in the shop.

I shook my head. "The kid may not use his head, but I doubt he'd get into the hard stuff. He doesn't look like he's snortin' dope, does he?"

"Nah," Soda grinned, "he doesn't."

"Welup, kiddies!" Two-Bit burst in the doorway, grinning like a fool. "Where's Pony? He galloping 'round here somewhere?"

"You ain't seen'im?" Soda whipped around, his eyes wide. "He said he was gonna hang with you today."

Two-Bit shook his head slowly. "Nah, the colt ain't shown his face."

"Ah, hell!" Soda slammed his fist on the counter. "He's gonna get himself in some serious trouble 'round here—just watch."

XXX

I kicked open the door to Buck's and it cracked loudly against the wall.

"Hey, kid—Tim said you was back from the city." Buck Merrill was behind the bar, taking heavy swigs on a beer.

I nodded, slipping onto a bar stool across from him. "Got in just last night."

"You seen your brothers?" He slid a beer across the counter. "They were torn up somethin' awful when ya left."

I guzzled half the bottle before responding. "Yeah, they found me down at Tim's. You heard anything on Curly?"

Buck smirked. "The kid's still alive—he'll be out in week, but the fuzz are itchin' at getting' to'im and tossin'im in the cooler."

"Shouldn'tna snorted that much, then. I had a buddy up in New York that offed himself on a few CCs of that junk on accident. It wasn't pretty."

"I wouldn't dare say it was." He tossed me another beer after I downed the first.

"So what's goin' on with the turf war?"

"Ah, Brumley's goin' after the west side of Shepard's territory. Tim's sure it was one of the Brumley boys that slipped Curly that dope, so everything's gettin' kicked up another notch." Buck tipped back another bottle.

After I'd finished my second one, I decided a buzz was good enough—I didn't wanna show up at the house wasted and have Darry hoppin' all over my case. "I gotta split." I slipped a five over the counter, before jumping off the stool. "Oh," I paused, sliding a few bucks to him. "Get me a bottle of Jack, will ya?"

Buck nodded, ducking into the backroom, before reappearing with a bottle in hand. He tossed it to me as I headed out the door. I grinned, slipping it into my back pocket and lighting up a weed.

"Hey, grease!" A mustang sped by, before circling around and squealing to a stop in front of me. Five Socs hopped out of their cars, completely sober for once as they swaggered forward.

"I don't got time for ya today, boys—come back later." I took a drag on my cig.

One of them grinned, before spitting at my feet. "Ah, come on, white trash—ya scared?"

I lunged forward, my fist catching him in the eye with my right hook. He fell to the ground, out cold, but the fight was on. The others jumped on me, nearly pinning me to the sidewalk, but I caught the upper hand with my size and slipped out between a guys legs.

"You're gonna have to do better then that, boys." I sneered, before taking off at a dead sprint in the opposite direction. It wasn't long before they were in the mustang and speeding along at my side. Turning the corner, I split into an alley that they couldn't follow with their car. I laughed once and sped up. Slipping out into the sunlight, I grimaced as the Socs came tearing around the corner. _Did these guys ever give up?_

The DX was just down the street, so I tore off in that direction. The mustang was hot on my heels, but I kicked up the speed. Cutting out into the intersection, I narrowly avoided getting clobbered by the car as the Socs swung around, screeching to halt in front of me. They jumped out, abandoning their car on the side of the road, and raced after me. I ran like the devil was after me—I don't think I'd ever pushed my legs that hard before.

Just as I was within a foot of the DX, one of them launched into a flying tackle and knocked me face first into the concrete. One of my fists connected with his nose, but the rest of my body was screaming in protest as we skidded on the scorching sidewalk.

"Hey!" Steve's voice erupted from somewhere. I managed to kick the guy to the side and spring up from the ground to face the other Socs, before Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit sprinted out of the DX.

I was already in the middle of a rumble with two Socs when the guys chased off the others. One of them hauled the guy that had tackled me off the ground and they took off around the corner like bats outta hell. The other two tore off back to the mustang where the one I had knocked out was still drooling over the back seat.

"Jeez, kid! What'd ya do to'em?" Steve demanded, wiping the sweat from his brow.

I wiped the blood off my face. "Nothin'—they came after me when I left Buck's."

Soda scowled. "Come on, you're face is covered in blood. Let's get ya cleaned up."

He led me into the DX, disappearing into the bathroom, before coming back with a wet rag.

"You sure took care of'em pretty good on your own." Soda grinned, wiping the blood from my face and dabbing carefully at the concrete burns.

I flinched when pain flared in the burns. "It's a good thing I can still run."

Two-Bit nodded, coming up to study the damage done to my face. "Yeah, otherwise you'd be dead on the streets already."

I tensed; squeezing my eyes shut as the image of Caged—bloody and limp on the ground—flashed beneath my lids. My body shook and for the first time since the rumble with the Devils, I almost felt vulnerable.

"Ponyboy?" Soda's voice broke through my silent meltdown. "You alright?"

I shook the memory away—Caged was dead and I couldn't take that back. "Yeah, I'm fine." I shrugged away from his grip on my shoulders and slipped my bottle of Daniels out of my back pocket—how I didn't lose it in the rumble was a mystery to me, but I didn't question it; after all, I had my whiskey, didn't I? Taking a heavy swig from the bottle, I leaned back against the counter wearily.

"How'd you get another bottle so fast?" Two-Bit looked like a pouting puppy.

I paused, thinking back to last night. "Hey! Where is my other bottle? Two-Bit, I swear if you jacked it from me—,"

He cut me off and raised his hands as if to show that they were empty. "It was Darry, Pone; not me." I scowled, but tipped back my bottle to show that I wouldn't be startin' up another fight.

"Jeez, kid, how does your gut handle that? Whiskey is like fire!" Steve eyed my Jack Daniels with something close to disgust.

I smirked. "Shoot, whiskey was breakfast, lunch, and dinner up in the city. There wasn't much else you could boost from someone without them callin' the fuzz on ya."

"You couldn't even handle a straight up beer the first time you drank." Two-Bit grinned, and I immediately though back to my first drink.

"Ah, hell, not this story again!"

XXX

I choked on a laugh, watching my brother attempt to tackle Two-Bit while balancing his bottle of Daniels in his mouth. I remembered Pony's first attempt at drinking like it was yesterday, so Ponyboy didn't need to be trying to stop Two-Bit from telling the story again.

_XX_

_I hopped out of Steve's car with a lopsided grin on my face; excited for my date with Sandy tonight. Steve followed me up the front steps, but before I could even lay a hand on the knob, the door was flung open. Two-Bit threw himself forward, effectively shoving me backwards and sending Steve flying into the railing._

"_What the heck?!" My friend shouted; his eyes narrowed at Two-Bit as he worked to block the doorway._

"_You don't wanna go in there." His eyes were wide and he was shaking his head so hard and fast you'd have thought there was an earthquake._

_I glared at him. "And why is that?"_

"_Just trust me, Soda."_

_Steve snorted. "Trust _you_?!"_

_Two-Bit scratched the back of his neck anxiously. "Okay, just believe me on this one, boys! You really don't wanna see this!"_

"_Shove it, Two-Bit." Steve and I caught our friend by the arms, tearing him away from the open doorway, and running inside. The sound of heaving reached my ears and I nearly gagged just listening to it._

"_What the?" I started down the hallway with Steve at my heels. Two-Bit came running at him, but Steve knocked him back into the living room with a jab to the gut._

_Johnny met me halfway. "Uh, Soda, I don't think you really wanna go in there…" I crossed my arms, giving the boy a pleading look. Biting his lip, he finally nodded and moved aside._

_I opened the bathroom door carefully, not sure what to expect—but what I saw sure threw me for a loop._

_Dally was kneeling on the floor, one of his arms around Pony's waist in attempt to hold the kid up. Ponyboy was head first in the toilet, heaving out his guts, and looked like he was about to pass out right then and there._

"_What's goin' on here?" I demanded, kneeling on his other side._

_With a proud grin stretched across his face, Dally shook his head. "The kid jacked a beer from Buck's." His grip tightened around my brother when Ponyboy slumped back against him. "He downed it as fast as he could when I found'im in the back yard with it—he ain't takin' to it too well."_

_I rubbed my face tiredly. "What's Darry gonna say?" I spoke too soon._

"_Yeah, what _is_ Darry gonna say?"_

_Turning around, I blanched at the sight of my older brother standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a killer glare on his face._

_Oh yeah, Ponyboy was screwed._

_XX_

Throwing my tool belt in the back of my truck, I slammed the door shut and trudged up to the front steps. My back was killing me and I was determined to lay down the second I got in the house.

"Jeez, the kid's hammered!" Steve's voice came from inside.

Two-Bit snorted and the sound carried through the screen door. "Well, how many Daniels did he down today? Four, five?"

"Buck must've been feelin' generous today—he doesn't usually slip a kid that many drinks in a day, and even Buck has _some_ sense." Soda was in the kitchen.

"Alright, what'd he do this time?" I threw open the door, storming inside.

My eyes landed on Ponyboy. He was completely out of it, sprawled out on the couch, an empty bottle of Daniels in his hand, and mumbling something about half-eaten hot dogs.

The boys' eyes got wide when the door slammed shut behind me, but Ponyboy sat straight up.

"Darry!" He let out a drunken laugh, dropping his bottle to the carpet. "I've missed you!" Pony attempted to stand, and with his arms wide, threw himself at me. I caught him before he could hit the floor, before hauling him back to the couch, where—within seconds—he was out cold.

Soda looked at our unconscious brother on the couch. "He's gonna have a killer hangover."

XXX

I tightened my hold around Pony's waist, trying to keep him from falling face first into his own vomit.

Soda was busy hunting down some aspirin and a glass of water for the kid, Two-Bit had to go home to watch his little sister (somethin' about his ma workin' graveyard shifts down at Charlie's Bar and how his sis couldn't be alone at night), and Darry was out cold in his room, so I was stuck trying to hold Ponyboy up while he heaved himself to death. He may have been used to whiskey, but there was no way he got this hammered every day up in the city—he would've been dead if he had.

"Thanks, Steve." Soda sighed, shutting the bathroom door softly behind him. "Pony's gonna have a hangover like no other."

I snorted. "The kid's gonna need a shower after this—and a tooth brush."

"Yeah," Soda laughed, sitting on the other side of Ponyboy.

"You better pray this is a one time run with all that whiskey, otherwise he's gonna be losin' his guts every night for the next how-many-ever months that he's here." I tensed when another round of vomit decided to make its appearance and Pony jerked forward.

"Yeah," Soda sighed, "but at least he's home."

XXX

I glanced up at the clock on the wall—_11:30 PM_. Dang, this kid had me up all night!

"Hill, I want to know where Curtis has disappeared to! Now!" I hollered irritably, chugging down another mug of straight black coffee.

She tossed the file onto my desk, her lips turned down in a scowl. "Jeez, Marx, cool your jets." With one last annoyed sigh, she slipped from the room. I rolled my eyes like a child and picked up the file.

They _still_ hadn't found the kid! They had found his gang—at least, what was left of it after the kid took off and Jesse "Caged" Mason was murdered. My officers had hauled in the last four guys and we had interrogated them for hours.

We got the same line every time:

_I ain't tellin' ya squat._

I slapped the file down in frustration. _Where had this kid gone?! _Groaning, I poured myself another cup of coffee.

_Glory, kid, how do you get away with_ everything?

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**Hopefully, you read my author's note at the top. **

**Review please!**

**_-full moon writing_**


	5. Chapter 5: The Siren's Light

**In the words of Two-Bit..."Welup, kiddies!" I apologize for the delay- I've been busy. Thank you to everyone for the reviews and support!**

**Disclaimer: S.E Hinton owns The Outsiders...Although, I _really_ wish Dally and Soda were _mine_...**

* * *

XXX

I stared at the empty bottle of Daniels on the table.

_I need more. I need more. I need more._

It was three-thirty in the morning and my last hangover had just worn off. Steve was snoring away on the couch, completely oblivious to the world around him. Two-Bit was passed out in the bathroom—he'd said it was his turn to heave his guts out for the night, and lately, we'd been taking turns using the bathroom every night to work off our hangovers. Soda and Darry were dead asleep in their rooms, so I was left to my own devices.

Okay, so maybe I'd become a _little_ bit addicted to whiskey… Alright, alright, I was a wreck without it. I was far from being an alcoholic—heaven forbid that ever happened—but a sip of Jack Daniels every few hours kept me sane. Glory, I missed the city. I wished I was up there mugging the innocents beside Drew, Shots, Drag, Frankie, and Hal. Caged was long gone, but I could still see our last assault like it was happening before my eyes.

Caged had seemed…_disapproving. _Was he tired of our lifestyle? Of always being tossed around like trash and then shoving back at the people who were screwing us over?

Pulling out my wallet, I slipped out my last few dollars (_borrowed_ money from the city…) and slipped out the front door. I lit up a weed, hurrying down the streets and through the sprinkling rain. Buck's wasn't far from our place—a ten minute walk, maybe.

The party was in full swing when I got there. Shepard and his crew were there—no shock that Brumley and his gang weren't—and they were deep into a hand of poker. I swung open the door, trudging inside.

"Got room for another?" I put myself between Buck and Tim.

Tim did a double-take. "What're ya doin' out, kid? Ain't you're brothers gonna flip?"

"Nah," I grinned, "they ain't my parole officers."

Buck dealt me a hand. "Finally, baby Curtis has learned how to walk on his lonesome."

Every guy around got a good laugh outta that, but my glare shut them up awful quick. Buck got me a Daniels—no surprise there—and I ended up winning a few hands, before pulling out with my forty bucks and a few bottles of Jack.

"So, what was the big city like?" Tim asked, tipping back in his chair,

I hesitated for just a second. "It was hell. All we did was mug the people on the sidewalks, play poker, drink, fight, and sleep. You couldn't get food unless you felt like dumpster diving." I told a few gory stories of rumbles and muggings—they were intent on knowing just what it was like to be a JD from the city.

The broads hangin' around us were gettin' handsy and I was shifty enough as it was just being there. Sylvia—Dally's old girl—was hittin' it up with Tim and I wasn't itchin' to watch them throw themselves into one of the bedrooms in the back. I was on a major buzz—one where I was just on the edge of being drunk—so I took the farthest room down the hall. There was no way I was showin' up at the house like this. I'd sleep it off and then head home in the mornin'. Shoot, I was startin' to sound like Dally—wasn't this exactly what he did every night when he was still kickin'?

Collapsing onto the bed, I took in my surroundings. This was the room Dally was staying in when Johnny and I came to him after killin' that soc—I knew because my sweatshirt was still on the floor in the closet two years later and one of the only two pairs of jeans that Dallas owned was right beside them.

How did I know they were his jeans?

When I tried drinking for the first time, Dally held me up while I heaved myself to death in the bathroom. I missed the toilet once and hit his knee and—after he socked me in the face the next day when I had a killer hangover—the stain never came out. So, Dally tore out the knees of his jeans.

I laughed to myself, before letting the haze of sleep take over.

Buck's beds were extremely uncomfortable.

XXX

"_Where do you get off boozing up a sixteen-year-old kid?!"_ Darry's unmistakable shouting woke me from my uneasy slumber.

"Ah, hell." I muttered, hauling myself off the bed. Making sure I still had my money and Daniels hidden safely in my pockets, I trudged out of the back room to face my raging older brother.

"Whoa, big Curtis, cool your jets and settle for a sec!" Buck was, fortunately, protected from my older brother by the bar he stood behind. "The kid's not boozed up! He's passed out in the back. I'll get'im for ya, but before ya start hollerin' at'im, remember he's seen hell and I'd bet my booze on it that he's itchin' to run back there already—don't screw it up this time around."

My jaw nearly hit the floor.

Darry's glower intensified. "When I want your help raising my brother—and heaven knows that I never I will—I'll ask you."

"Jeez, Dar, you wanna bring the roof down with all that shoutin'?" I muttered, slipping out from behind the wall I was previously hidden behind.

Buck smirked. "You work off that buzz last night with a broad?"

Ah, hell, Darry was gonna flip—but that was what Buck was goin' for and I was goin' along for the ride. "Sylvia gets a little handsy at the end—watch out for that if you ever pick her up." I swear my brother's face turned twenty different shades of red and purple.

"Ponyboy Michael Curtis! I want you in the truck! _Now!_"

I had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing and, by the look on Buck's face, he was having the same problem.

Grinning, I followed my brother to the door. "Thanks for everything, Buck—see ya around."

XXX

"Alright, alright, I fold." I threw my cards down, tipping back in my chair and taking a swig of my coke.

Steve grinned, swiping the money off the table. "Shoulda have hidden that ace a little better."

"Ah, shove it." I rolled my eyes, turning to watch Mickey Mouse. Two-Bit was sprawled out on the floor with massive piece of chocolate cake and a beer bottle at his side.

"Go, Mickey! Go!" He hollered. My eyes got wide and I choked on my own laughter.

A truck door slammed outside. "Ponyboy Curtis, you better have a good reason for what you did last night!"

"Hormones, Dar, hormones." My younger brother's sardonic laugh carried into the house.

I could almost _hear_ Darry's face turning red. "You don't hook up with some filthy broad because your hormones are hoppin'!"

Two-Bit choked on his cake, I spit out my coke, and Steve let out something between a strangled laugh and a holler of congratulations.

"She was rough, not filthy." Ponyboy answered with false innocence.

Two-Bit and Steve burst out into roaring laughter, while I just gaped at my brothers as they entered the house. Pony seemed to be perfectly at ease with his taunting grin and loose swagger, while Darry was on the warpath. His face was bright red and he was stomping so hard I though he was gonna drop through the floor.

"Ponyboy Curtis, you're grounded for three weeks, do you hear me?!" Darry shouted, trying to be as intimidating to our younger brother as he was two years ago. However, that didn't seem possible. Ponyboy was maybe two or three inches shorter and his muscles were fast approaching Darry's size.

"Glory, who did you holler at when I was gone? Or have your vocal chords been havin' a nice rest for the past two years?" Pony's grin was easy, almost pleasant—but the mocking sarcasm was extremely blatant.

Darry took a deep breath. "Go to your room and don't come out again until I say so, boy."

My younger brother thought about it for a moment, before shaking his head and shrugging. "I'd really rather not."

And with that, he walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

XXX

I swaggered lazily down the street, my mind in the city, miles away. If I was there, we'd be just wakin' up on the floor of Frankie's shack and completely hung over. All of us would have some kind of new injury, whether we remembered getting it or not. We would head out onto the streets and see if we could scrounge up anything for breakfast from the dumpsters or manage to boost somethin' from the market.

"Hey, baby Curtis!" A voice rang down the street.

I turned on my heel, leaning back with a sly grin stretched across my face. "Well, hello, beautiful." Kathy ran forward, throwing her arms around my neck. I held her tight, thinking back to the fling we had before I left.

"Ponyboy, when did you get back?" She smiled as we pulled away.

I shrugged. "Few days ago—how's the fam?"

"The family's fine—mom and dad are goin' crazy over M&M's latest little escapade, but we're still kickin'." Her southern drawl was still as clear as day.

I gave her a lopsided grin. "Well, I gotta be somewhere, babe, but I'll catch ya later."

"Alright," something in her eyes flashed unexpectedly, "see you 'round, Pony."

Taking a heavy swig outta my Daniels, I groaned—it was empty! Well, Buck's wasn't too far away…

XXX

"They found him?" I rose from behind my overrun desk with wide eyes.

Officer Hill rolled her eyes, snatched the cruiser's keys from my hands, and strode out the door. "You comin', Marx? Or ya gonna let the kid get away again?"

I ran after her. "So where'd they find'im?"

Hill flipped through the file in her hands while we slid into the car. "Tulsa, Oklahoma—with his brother's. The station down there reported seeing him a few days ago down by a local bar—they said they'd leave'im up to us and not interfere."

I grinned. "The kid ain't gettin' out this time—we finally got'im."

XXX

"So, here comes Frankie and Hal, completely wasted and fallin' all over themselves. The cops are already tryin' to bust me and Drag for muggin' this lady—when it was the Devils who did it—so imagine the fuzz's faces when they see two drunk hoods coming towards us. Drag is tryin' to distract the coppers and I'm tryin' to get Caged's attention across the street so he can grab Frankie and Hal, while the fuzz is still tryin' to bust us. Suddenly, Drew comes screamin' down the street in this red mustang with a red face and a smoke in his mouth and a temper to boot.

"He flings open the passenger's door, me and Drag shove the cops into the hood of their own car while they're distracted, and then all of us—Caged, Hal, Frankie, Drag, and me—bail into the mustang and Drew tears off down the street. I asked him where he got the tuff ride and ya know what he said? 'If the fuzz asks, you stole it.'"

Steve and Soda busted up into hysterics, slapping the counter.

Two-Bit leaned back in his chair with a proud grin. "Shoot kid, ya gotta let me meet these boys of yours and Dally's." I flinched—I probably would never see the boys again—but pushed away the haywire emotions. Caged was dead, and I had to move on—I couldn't change it, not matter how badly I wanted to.

"Alright, boys, get your butts in here and help me!" Darry shouted from the kitchen. It was Thanksgiving—glory, I had been here for two weeks already—and we were all haulin' butt to get this dinner done. It smelled so freakin' great that I swear even Darry was gettin' jumpy to dig in.

Darry tossed me the potatoes, a bowl, the butter, and a spoon the second I entered the kitchen, before grabbing Soda and the boys to order them around. I set to work, mashing the potatoes and melting the butter while the others rushed around me, preparing everything else.

Two hours passed before we were all sitting down at the table, inhaling the scent of our feast.

"Alright, dig in!" Soda reached for the turkey, but Darry caught his arm.

He shook his head. "We have to say grace first—just like mom and dad used to." I folded my arms first, bowing my head while Darry said the prayer.

It was silent for a moment, before Soda spoke. "Thanks, Darry—I can't believe I forgot."

"Ah, come on, little buddy, let's just eat." Darry ruffled our brother's hair, before reaching over to carve the turkey.

After consuming just about everything on the table, all of us slumped back to the living room, completely full, and left the dishes for later. We settled on the floor for a game of cards, and it was almost like old times again—but the loss of Dally and Johnny still hung thick in the air.

"I'll put in ten." Steve tossed a bill on the table.

Two-Bit threw his cards down. "Alright, I fold." I laughed, throwing in my own ten and then raising it a few cents to make Soda sweat.

"Um…I'll match." He hesitantly threw in the same amount.

Darry raised the bet, but I wasn't worried. The game went on until there were sixty bones in the center—I grinned.

"Read'em and weep boys—all aces!" I laid my cards out on the table.

Steve swore, pounding his fist on the coffee table, while Soda and Darry groaned and threw their money at me.

"Thank you, thank you." I smirked, folding the bills into my pocket and taking a swig of my beer. I leaned back against the couch, my mind drifting back to the city again. Soda and Darry were watching me closely—I could feel it.

"Why'd you come back, Pone?" Darry finally asked, his eyes meeting mine.

I hesitated, slouching back and averting my eyes. "You don't want to know." My voice was low and rough. "You'd hate me if you did."

Soda grabbed me boy the shoulders. "Ponyboy, we could _never_ hate you." His eyes bored into mine, scorching the barriers I had built against the world.

I looked away. "It was another murder wrap."

"You killed someone?!" Darry exploded, jumping up and glaring down at me with incredulous eyes.

"No, I—," I began, but screaming sirens erupted around us and cut off my ineffective denial. Flashing lights illuminated the house from outside the windows―there was shouting all around us.

Soda's eyes met mine. "What happened to you?"

I bowed my head, sinking back into the couch. The door burst open, cracking violently against the wall as officers streamed inside. Rough hands hauled me up from the couch, while sharp handcuffs were clipped around my wrists; they were digging into my calloused skin, but I couldn't feel it. I was completely numb—I heard that was what Mark was like when he was hauled in for selling weed, so I figured it was a good enough way to go.

"You're under arrest for the murder of Jesse "Caged" Mason. You have the right to remain silent…"

XXX

In the chaos around me, all I could was stare as my brother was handcuffed and hauled to the doorway. Darry put an arm around my shoulders, but his eyes were on Ponyboy. Our brother was unnervingly calm—it was almost eerie.

His ice-like eyes rose to meet mine as they shoved him out into the bitter cold of the night. "Can you hate me now?"

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**Review, please!**

**Always,  
Emma!**


	6. Chapter 6: Unexpected Defense

**I am so sorry it took so along for me to upate!  
A special thank you to WordsANDpaper for always getting me to focus on my writing by messaging me everytime I neglect _Bloody Regrets _for too long!**

**Thank you!**

* * *

**XXXXX**

"Alright, alright, boys—there's no need to be pushy." I grinned lazily, following Marx to a cell. Knight shoved me forward into the cramped and musty chamber, before unlocking my cuffs and slamming the cell shut. "You aren't very friendly after a road trip, Marx—gotta stiff back? Ya know, I get those too after a long drive; so does Darry, but Soda doesn't…I really don't know how he does it, I mean—,"

Marx slammed his hands against the iron bars. "Shut up, kid!" His glower met my lopsided grin.

"Sorry, boss."

He groaned, throwing his head back. "Why did I have to come all the way down to Oklahoma to catch ya this time, kid? Couldn't ya have made it a little easier for me and just stayed in that trashy alley of yours?"

I grimaced, but hid it quickly with a smirk. "It took your boys two weeks to figure out where I used to live, Marx? Glory, you've been slackin' off!"

"Shut the hell up, before I come in there and knock you around!" The cop snarled and narrowed his eyes at me.

I swaggered up to the bars and spat in his face. "You wouldn't be the first."

Marx wiped the spit from his eye, muttered a string of unprintable curses, and then—as coolly as possible—stormed out of the holding room and slammed the door behind him.

I cocked my head to the side with a pleasant grin aimed at the scowling guard standing near the door. "I think that went well—what about you?"

XXX

"Just let us in to see the kid!" Steve shouted at officer sitting behind the desk. The fuzz lady sighed, shooting us a few strange looks as if to ask why we weren't locked up as well.

Darry was fed up with the system by then—he hated the cops with everything he had in'im—but he was being rather cool about it. However, I was about to lose it! "Listen, lady, I'm gonna see my brother and I'm gonna see'im now!"

"Hey, hey, let's just cool it out here, okay?" An officer slipped out of one of the offices—she wasn't from this station; we knew every cop in Tulsa by now. "I'm Officer Hill—what can I help you boys with?"

Darry had, for the most part, collected his cool by then. "We're here to see our brother, Ponyboy Curtis."

Her eyes went wide, before she let out a soft laugh. "Ah, yes, I know Ponyboy very well by now." She paused and eyed us carefully. "If only he had this kind of support up in the city…maybe…" Hill shook her head, before turning to the witch of the desk. "Buzz us in, Margaret." The witch rolled her eyes, before pressing a small red button on the back of her desk. Hill lead us to a heavily plated door, shoved it open roughly, and lead us inside a rank metal-coated room of cells.

There were various greasers from our hood passed out on the creaking cots and other middle classers I'd never seen before were pacing their cells. Officers were located in random places around the room and cells; just glaring at each of the inmates.

Hill led us farther down the multiple rows and aisles, before stopping in front of an isolated cell in the far back. A boy sat in the corner, tipping back a bottle of Daniels and staring blankly at the wall. I couldn't see his face, but the hair was a tip off.

"They let the kid have a bottle of Jack in the big-house?" Steve muttered, gaping at the bottle o'booze in my kid brother's hand.

Hill turned to us with a strange smirk on her face. "We learned our lesson the first time—keep him drinking and ya won't have any trouble with him. The first time we hauled him in up the city, we took all his Daniels; the kid went crazy—banging on the walls, tearing up the mattress on his cot, literally pulling his hair out, and screaming in the middle of the night. Now, we keep him boozed up until a few hours before we question him."

"The kid gets his nerve from the bottle—never thought I'd see the day." Two-Bit stared blankly at the boy before us.

I punched his shoulder. "Shut up, Two-Bit—I don't wanna hear this crap coming from _you_ of all people."

"Soda," Darry turned sharply, meeting my bitter gaze evenly. I shook my head—I wasn't about to apologize when I was livin' in some hell-sent nightmare.

Ponyboy shifted on his cot and turned to face us. "There're my boys!" He slurred, falling off the makeshift bed, before stumbling to the bars that separated us.

"You're drunk." Darry stated plainly, as if he were just now accepting it. "You're completely wasted."

Pony let out a drunken laugh and spilled some of his Daniels down the front of his t-shirt and leather jacket. "Ain't it great? I feel like I'm in the sky!"

Steve cocked an eyebrow. "What've ya been smokin', kid?"

"Weed—at least he use to," Hill shook her head. "We busted him and his gang for it up in the city a year ago."

I cast a loaded glance at Steve. "Told you he got involved in drugs." He only shrugged and scowled at Ponyboy.

"When will his trial be?" Darry turned to the cop.

Her brows furrowed for a moment, before she responded. "Within the next month—murder trials often go through the courts extremely fast. Of course, we'll have to try him in New York—that's where the crime was committed, after all. We'll transport him up there a few days before the court date."

"And his questioning?"

She looked at Ponyboy, before reaching for the keys on her belt. "Questioning will be whenever he gets sobered up," she unlocked the cell and slid it open, "which will probably be within the next few hours." Hill reached for Pony's Jack and, to our surprise, he gave it up willingly. She slapped a pair of cuffs on him, before leading him out of the cell. "I'll take you boys to a holding room so you can talk."

We followed the fuzz lady down a cramped hallway and into a room near the end.

"I'll be back in ten minutes—and remember, you're being taped." She pointed to a camera in the corner of the room, before slipping out. Ponyboy slumped into a wooden chair in the corner, while we lounged against the walls.

There was a tense silence—the apprehension was nearly visible.

"I'm," Ponyboy began softly, "so sorry."

Steve cocked an eyebrow. "Thought you was drunk."

"Nah, I'm just a good actor. It's all an act so I get to keep my Daniels." My brother shrugged, averting his eyes from Darry's.

Unfortunately for Ponyboy, our older brother wasn't about to be ignored. "You killed someone." The statement was dry and unfeeling—accepting.

"Caged was murdered."

"By you."

"No."

"You're trying to deny it?" Darry approached our little brother with heavy footsteps; willing him to look up and meet his eyes.

Ponyboy rose slowly and matched Darry's height evenly. "I didn't kill Caged."

"Then why do they think you did it?" My brother's voice echoed with challenge.

"Because," Pony spat, "because I was there—because Caged died in my arms—because his blood was on my hands," his arctic irises met Darry's, "because I get hauled in for _everything,_ just like _Dallas_! You couldn'tve kept me from turnin' into Dally—I was already him!"

I watched in shock and terror as Darry shoved Ponyboy back into the wall. "Mom and dad would have been ashamed—you aren't the son they raised."

"I never was." Pony shook his head slowly, slumping back into the wooden chair, while our older brother—the one that used to hold us together—slipped silently out of the room.

Steve slid down the wall, clenching his fists and leaning his head back. "Did you kill him, Ponyboy?"

"No, I didn't kill him." Pony's voice shook and I could have sworn there were tears in his eyes—those eyes that I couldn't meet. "But it sure feels like I did."

"Alright, boys, time's up." Hill slipped inside with a grave look on her pale face. "His court date is in five days—we'll be transporting him to the prison up there in just a few hours—so say your goodbyes now."

Steve stood, before making his way to Ponyboy. "I believe ya, kid—don't let the system take ya out without a fight." He disappeared out the doorway moments later.

Two-Bit was unusually sober. "Take care of yourself, Pone—we're all backin' ya."

Pony stood, shrugging. "Darry isn't." Two-Bit didn't have an answer to that—he simply hugged my kid brother, before stepping out of the room and following Steve down the hallway.

"Darry didn't mean that, Ponyboy. He's just scared like the rest of us." I approached him with slow, tired movements.

"Soda…" My brother whispered, averting his eyes from mine. "I'm sorry."

I wrapped my arms around him. "Me too, little buddy—me too."

XX

"The court needs us to testify about when we found Pony—'bout everything he's told us since he got here." I slammed the door behind me as I called to Darry. "The lady cop—Hill?—said she'd have someone call us about the court date. We'll have to head up to the city for it."

He merely grunted in response. Rounding the corner, I found Darry hunched over on the couch with a bottle of Jack in his hands. "Pony was right—Daniels is a good way to take the edge off things."

"You gonna start gettin' your nerve outta a bottle now—like Ponyboy?" I demanded weakly, shaking my head. "I wanna drink myself to the gutter now, too—but, Dar, we have our kid brother to worry about now. I'm not the legal guardian or your older brother, but I'm not far from hittin' ya right now, just to knock some sense into ya."

I trudged off to my room and collapsed on the bed—completely drained from the day. It was nearly three in the mornin' and I was too tired to even think about going to work in a few hours. Maybe the boss would lighten up for this—after all, my brother was locked up in the slammer for murder.

XXX

"Where were you on the night of the twelfth of November?" Hill began as she flipped absentmindedly through the thick file in her hands.

I slammed my head down on the table. "Can we just skip the whole routine?! I didn't kill him! One of the guys from our rival gang did," I didn't tell her which gang—greasers don't sell out other greasers, no matter what—even if they killed, "but I didn't see his face, so I can't tell ya who it was."

"Ponyboy, I am aware of the bit of an honor code amongst you boys—I know that you know who killed Cage." Hill set the file down and stood from her chair.

I did a double-take on her words. "You believe me? That I didn't kill Caged, I mean."

"Oh," she laughed softly, "of course I do! You would never murder your friend! I've seen you fight for Caged many times! Marx is just determined to throw you away for life—you're a bit of a pain in the butt for him." Her gentle eyes met mine. "Listen, Ponyboy, I am going to make sure you get one dandy of a great lawyer—the judge will mostly like turn this case in favor of Marx's case, but we'll be ready."

"Really?" I felt like a little kid.

She opened the door slowly—her eyes were still on me. "Ponyboy, I was the first one to haul you in up in the city—I've seen your innocence, your strength, and your loyalty. I've been fighting on your side since day one—who do you think convinced the station to let you keep your Daniels whenever you're locked up?" Hill's laughter echoed softly even after she'd shut the door and made her way down the corridor.

I relaxed, because, for once, there was someone on my side.

XX

They transported me up to the station in New York just a few hours later. The drive was hours long and—just as I told Marx—my back was stiffer than a board when I got out of the cruiser and stepped out into the early morning air. There was snow everywhere—blanketing every available surface in its arctic reach

"Come on, boy." Knight roughly shoved me forward. I trudged onward, bowing my head against the winter gusts that were picking up as each second passed.

The station was like an open flame compared to the conditions outside—however, the officers were even colder than the North Pole with their attitudes. Knight pushed me into the holding room, before finding my usual cell and forcing me inside. He unlocked my handcuffs, muttering something about wanting to leave them on forever, and then slammed the cell door shut, leaving me to my own devices.

* * *

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_- Full Moon Writing_


	7. Chapter 7: Viral Verdict

**Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_. I do not.**  


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XXXXX

I trudged onward, averting my eyes from the faces of the present jury. My heart was pounding—my palms were slick with sweat—and my entire body was shakin'. It felt like I was doin' the jitterbug.

My lawyer—Jonathan Anderson— was a burly man with a black buzz cut and a fancy suit. His eyes were electric blue—and slightly frightening. He extended a hand for me to shake, after Knight removed my handcuffs, and I took it tentatively.

We took our seats silently, not exchanging one word. Soda and Darry were in the benches behind us; from the looks of it, Soda was sweating bullets, while Darry attempted to calm him down.

It had been two weeks since my arrest. They had to postpone the court date when Marx failed to provide the required amount of evidence that he'd sworn he had. Instinct told me that my boys in the alleys had something to do with that—I smirked.

Drag, Hal, Frankie, and Drew were just a few chairs down from my brothers, throwing suggestive looks at the women behind them. I choked on a laugh and it came out a snort, drawing the boys' eyes to me. Drew winked, snickering to himself when the bailiff just a few feet from us threw him a warning look.

"All arise for the honorable judge Ambrose."

_Judge Ambrose?!_ Lady luck was definitely not my ally today.

James Ambrose was a slick, spineless man. He was out to personally toss the Devils, the Jets, the Rollers, the Sharks, and us in the slammer for life. Ambrose despised anyone that would even dare disrupt his city—greasers were at the top of his black list.

I was _so_ screwed.

"You may be seated." The despicable man spoke with a ridiculous attempt at an authoritative voice.

My heart was pounding in my ears… My freaking stomach was in my throat…

My organs were entirely out of place.

Ah, hell.

XXX

**SODA**

So, maybe I'm not the brightest bulb in the lamp, but I do know a few things.

One: My brother was as nervous as hell.

Two: This judge didn't look like a good man.

Three: This jury needed to be _very_ careful in how they turned the case.

My leg was bouncing up and down—repeating the motion every second. Bullets of sweat were coursing down my forehead, and my dress shirt suddenly felt very tight.

Darry put a hand on my knee, ceasing the incessant tapping of my foot. My eyes met his—they were bloodshot and looked more tired than Ponyboy on a hangover. I managed a half-hearted grin, trying—in vain—to offer some sort of hope.

It was pointless. We knew what was about to happen.

"I call Andrew J. Braxton…"

XXX

**PONYBOY**

"…to the stand." The prosecutor stood from his seat and strode to the front of the room. Drew rolled his eyes, before rising and trudging up to the stand. After he was sworn in, the prosecutor tore into him with questions—firing them at him like they were bein' spit from a heater.

"Where were you on the night of the twelfth of November?"

Drew slouched back on the bench. "With your mom in the alley down off broad street."

"_Broadway avenue_?" The prosecutor corrected him with a pointed look.

"Ah," my friend smacked his knee and laughed, "we call it _broad-way_ for a reason. You can pick up all the best chicks down there."

"Mr. Braxton!" Ambrose growled—his beady eyes turned on Drew.

"Sorry, your honor." He quipped sarcastically.

XX

After nearly half an hour of testimonies, the court recessed for fifteen minutes.

"Hey kiddo," Soda pulled me into a hug as we exited the court room. I grinned, mock punching him in the shoulder.

"_Ambrose?_ You had to choose_ him_ of all people?! What's runnin' through that thick head of yours, boy?!" Drag caught me around the torso and swung me around in circle.

I slipped away from him quickly and plastered my signature smirk across my face. "I was feelin' like I needed a challenge!" Dropping the sardonic grin from my lips, I rolled my eyes and slapped Drag across the back of the head. "You dip-wad, I didn't choose the man!"

"Hey, hey, cool it, boys." Drew came down the corridor with the rest of the boys and flipped up the collar of his leather jacket. Lighting a cig, grinning like the cat that ate the canary, he socked my shoulder. "Nice one, Runner."

Runner was the name they gave me when I met them—I was the fastest, but they gave me the name 'cause I was always running from my past. Drew and Hal always called me Runner—they weren't likin' the name _Ponyboy._

"Nice what?"

He clapped me on the back. "Nice runnin'—you sure took them fuzz on a chase. All the way down to Oklahoma… I gotta say, I'm proud, boy. You ran like never before."

"Now, who are these fine folks?" Drag grinned impishly and nodded to my brothers.

Darry stepped forward. "Darrel and Sodapop—Ponyboy's brothers."

"Ah! I don't believe it! He really _is_ named Ponyboy!" Hal slapped his knee, cracking up into hysterics.

Frankie slapped the back of Hal's thick head. "At least he ain't named _Hal!_"

"Take that back!" The boys got into a fight right then and there, but it was quickly broken up by Drew's harsh command to shut up and deal with it later.

"Idiots!" Drew muttered, flipping them off and shaking his head. The crowd that had gathered near us to watch hurried away—probably scared off by the shouting.

Soda put his hand on my shoulder, but I shifted away to stand shoulder to shoulder with the boys. All of us lined up—facing my brothers.

"So these are the boys you ran to?" Darry's eyes narrowed slight—the movement was barely perceptible.

I nodded slowly and kept a poker face plastered on my features. "Yeah, here they are."

My brothers shifted uncomfortably, before Soda worked up the nerve to spit something out. "Uh, Dar, you wanna go get some water?" Darry nodded, before turning and leading Soda away down the corridor.

"I think that went well—don't you?" Drag quipped; grinning brightly and put a hand on my shoulder.

I rolled my eyes. "Idiot."

He got four slaps to the back of the head that time.

"Hey!" He called, rubbing his head and attempting to run after us as we laughed our way back down the hall. "Guys, wait up!"

XX

When court was back in session, my nerves kicked up again. It wasn't really that I was nervous about the sentencing—which I knew was coming—but it was the fact that Darry was now on the stand.

"Darrel, where was Ponyboy when you found him?" The prosecutor paced in front of my brother.

Darry cleared his throat before answering. "Wandering around outside one of our friend's houses."

"Now, what was he doing?"

My brother's eyes narrowed. "I just said—_he was wandering around._"

"Was he drinking?"

Darry stiffened and his eyes went wide. He didn't know how to answer that. It's a good thing my lawyer knew how to balance the situation…

"Objection!" He pounded his fist on the table as he stood.

"Sustained." Ambrose slammed his gavel down.

Jonathan walked around the table and approached the bench. "Your honor, what does this have to do with the case?" He cast his dark glower on the prosecutor.

"Mr. Hinders, what _does_ this have to do with the case?"

Hinders nodded. "Withdrawn."

Jonathan made his way back to the table, nodded to me in what seemed to be encouraging, and then sat down in silence for the remainder of court.

Each second that ticked by seemed to be mocking me—_when would it end?!_

Finally when court was adjourned until the next morning, when we would here the final decision, we left the courtroom. Well, I left the room in handcuffs and everyone else walked out on their accord. Knight and Hill escorted me back to the jail, where I would spend the night, hopefully, for the last time.

XX

I never was a morning person, so when Knight woke me up by dumping me off of my cot, I wasn't too happy. After spitting a few choice words at him, I changed into the clean clothes that someone had put on my bed.

"Come on, boy." Knight guided me out into the blowing snow, before nearly shoving me in the back of the car. Hill was already in the passenger's seat, and she turned to smile at me, before her partner floored it.

We arrived that the courthouse with only a few minutes to spare, before I was again seated in that straight-backed chair. Jonathan was beside me, tapping his fingers impatiently as everyone entered. My brothers and the boys were all seated in the first row of benches—all wore sober expressions.

"All arise for the honorable judge Ambrose." The bailiff's voice boomed unexpectedly, and drew me from the reverie I had temporarily drifted in.

Once everyone was seated, Ambrose turned to the jury. "Has the jury reached a verdict?"

A woman sitting on the far right end nodded, before standing. "The jury finds the defendant…"

My heart was racing and suddenly it felt as if the world around me was ablaze with fire. Sweat trickled down my forehead, and I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand.

"…innocent."

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**I'm so very sorry for not updating for so long, but my internet was down. Another special thanks to _Wordsandpaper _for the PM's and reminders - I greatly appreciate it!**

**Review please?**

**Always,  
**_**Emma**_


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